


Through the Satellites

by kinoface



Category: Arashi (Band), Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-29
Updated: 2010-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinoface/pseuds/kinoface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Jun is Do-S and Nino is a brat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Satellites

**Author's Note:**

> Written lovingly for and beta'd wonderfully by the amazing elfiepike. <3 Title and lyrics from "London" by Third Eye Blind.

  
_you're so sick just to make me prove  
it takes a fight to move you_   


Nino is a greedy kisser. He holds Jun close by the back of his neck and kisses his mouth, his cheeks, his jaw, like he wants to take everything Jun has in little pieces. Jun lets him do what he wants for a while, lets him unwind Jun's scarf from around his neck and throw it to the side, kissing the newly revealed skin of his throat, lets Nino pick at the buttons on his jacket and push it off his shoulders. But when he starts tugging at Jun's shirt, that's when Jun takes Nino's hands and lowers them to his side—but Nino just grabs his ass instead. Jun holds Nino's jaw and tries to slow him down—but Nino just nudges away from his hand and goes back to kissing him.

 _He needs discipline,_ Jun thinks, and just the word makes him smile against Nino's mouth. He breaks the kiss and pushes Nino away, hard enough that the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. "Undress," he says, "and get on the bed."

"Bossy," Nino quips, but he does it anyway, elbows and knees sticking out at awkward angles as he goes, his every move rushed and impatient. He gets stuck in his shirt for a moment and almost trips out of his boxers, but finally he's scooting backwards onto the bed, face open in a boyish smile, knees askew not because he's trying to be lewd or seductive but because he just isn't aware enough of his own body to notice or care.

Jun climbs onto the bed after him and tries to look predatory as he arches on his hands and knees over Nino's splayed-out body. He thinks of a tiger stalking its prey and channels that feral gaze into his own expression—but the image is decidedly ruined when Nino grabs the collar of his shirt, throws a leg around his hips, and yanks him down onto the bed. Jun tries to stay upright but falls, half on the mattress, half on Nino, who's biting his lip and working his hand in between their bodies. By the time Jun has righted himself and is back on his elbows, Nino has his legs curled around Jun's thighs and a hand down Jun's pants, fingers working clumsily to pull Jun out of his briefs.

Jun tugs Nino's ear, trying to hide his incredulity. "No touching," he says, but Nino just spreads his legs a little wider around Jun's and moves instead to wrap a hand around himself. Jun fights the urge to roll his eyes and leans his weight on one elbow, reaching down with the other hand and snatching Nino's wrist. "'No touching' means yourself, too."

Nino twists his face into a scowl. "You didn't say that."

"Yes, I did. We discussed all of this before we even—"

Nino dismisses him with a scoff and goes to cross his arms, but Jun takes Nino's hand and lifts it above his head, folding Nino's fingers around the headboard, then does the same with Nino's other hand. "Just hold on to this, okay?"

Nino follows the order but smiles the way he does whenever Leader does something particularly endearing. "Or what—you'll spank me?"

Jun tweaks one of Nino's nipples hard enough to make him squawk. "Something like that. Are you going to cooperate?"

" _Fine_ , fine." Nino tightens his grip on the headboard and drops his head back onto the pillows with a muttered sigh, something about there being too many rules.

Jun tuts and pinches the taut skin over Nino's belly. "New rule. No talking back." Nino starts to complain, but Jun talks over him: "If I ask you a question, you answer with 'yes' or 'no.' Unless you need to safeword, that's all you're allowed to say. Understand?"

"Whatever," Nino says, and then when Jun threatens another tweak, "I mean, yes."

Satisfied that Nino will cooperate, Jun gets to work. He trails kisses down Nino's skinny body, paying special attention to all those sharp points—his collarbones, the edges of his ribs that flare out when he takes a deep breath, the crests of his hips. He lets Nino's legs stay wrapped around his body as he drifts lower, until he comes to Nino's thighs, and then he hooks his hands under Nino's knees and pushes them apart. Nino is hard and cooperative, finally, and arching nicely as he makes happy little noises. When Jun takes him into his mouth, he breathes out a pleased sigh.

Jun is pleased, too. He enjoys giving head and knows that he's good at it, knows that he can drive someone from calm and together to frantic and begging for it in a very short amount of time. That's what Nino needs, Jun thinks, to get into the right mood. Nino just needs to be a little desperate. Jun likes it when people are desperate; they're easier to manage, easier to play with, when they're on the edge and Jun is the only thing keeping them from tipping over. It's easy for Jun to make people do what he wants when he's the only thing keeping them from an orgasm.

Nino isn't quite there yet, but Jun can see he'll be there soon, and he pictures it—Nino moaning and shaking and begging—and he gets off on the image, uses it to fuel himself, to push himself forward, to encourage himself as he continues working around Nino's cock in his mouth. He holds Nino's knees a little more tightly against the mattress when Nino tries to buck up, he presses his tongue flat against the underside and licks, and Nino gasps and shivers and arches—

—and then he curls his fist in Jun's hair and _pushes his head down_.

Jun chokes, surprised, and slaps Nino's hand away. He comes up spluttering and pinches the soft skin at the back of Nino's knee, _hard_.

Nino yowls and lifts his head from the pillows, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown. "I was just trying to speed you up is all!"

Jun feels his mouth screw up in an involuntary scowl, and he pinches Nino again, this time on his thigh. He expects Nino to yelp, or talk back, but he _doesn't_ expect Nino to kick out with both feet, hitting Jun's shoulders and sending him toppling over the edge of the bed. Jun hits the floor with an _oof_ and immediately hears Nino giggling somewhere above him.

When he gets to his feet, Nino is sitting up now with his legs crossed, still hard, still laughing. The sound of it makes Jun furious. "What the hell, Nino!"

Nino pulls himself together enough to say defensively, "You kept pinching me!"

"I told you I would!"

"I didn't realize you were serious!"

Jun stares, incredulous. "What did you _think_ I meant?"

Nino has the audacity to shrug. "Beats me."

For a long moment, all Jun can do is look at Nino, who's sitting there unashamed and unaware of what a brat he is, the remnants of his giggling fit still evident in the upturned corners of his mouth. Jun lets out a frustrated sigh and turns away from the bed, reaching down to snatch up his scarf and jacket from the floor where Nino threw them earlier.

Nino watches him move, pouting. "We're having fun, aren't we?" he asks.

"No, Nino," Jun sighs. " _You're_ having fun." He glances towards the door, then back down at the scarf and jacket in his hands. "Maybe this isn't going to work," he says.

"Jun, wait—"

When he looks back at Nino, his face has turned serious, all the laughter and silliness gone. "I have been pretty bad, haven't I?" he says. His voice is unusually quiet, and there's some strange look in his eyes—challenge? Hopefulness? "For instance," he continues, "right now you haven't even lifted the no-talking rule."

Jun blinks. Nino acted like he'd forgotten about the rule, but to bring it up now... Nino is throwing something out to him, waiting for him to pick up on it, but he doesn't know what Nino would possibly want from him, especially with the way he's behaving. He doesn't even know anymore why Nino would have agreed to this if his plan was just to act like a brat. Was he bored? Did he want to make _fun_ of Jun? Did he want to make Jun _angry_? And Jun does start to feel angry, thinking about it, thinking about last night when he first approached Nino, who seemed so enthusiastic, so eager to say yes when he looked up at Jun, smiling with his mouth and with his eyes, and said, _Are you going to punish me, Jun-kun?_

He said it teasingly, like he was making fun—but then again, it's often true that the only way Nino knows how to be serious about something is to joke about it.

Jun gets it now. He understands. He remembers the way Nino's eyes lit up when Jun offered, remembers the way his mouth formed, deliberate, around the word: _Are you going to **punish** me, Jun-kun?_ He realizes, now, that Nino isn't being a brat because he thinks he can get away with it.

Nino doesn't _want_ to get away with it.

Jun looks at Nino now, still hard and serious and waiting, uncharacteristically patient. "Do you remember your safeword?" he asks.

"Yes," Nino replies, suddenly obedient.

Jun lets the jacket in his hands drop to the floor—but he holds on to the scarf. "Good."

When he moves back towards the bed, that look in Nino's eyes changes. He looks the same now as he always does, playful and confident, unwaveringly sure of himself as he nods at Jun and says, "For a minute there, I thought you were going to chicken out."

"You were right though," Jun says, climbing onto the bed beside Nino, and he waits until Nino smiles knowingly before continuing, "I _do_ need to discipline you for talking this whole time."

He gives Nino just enough time to process the words before he's pushing Nino down onto the mattress, turning him around so his face is pressed into the blankets and listening to him squeal as Jun takes his arms and moves them where he needs them. Nino shouts wordlessly and fights as Jun presses his wrists together behind his back, but he only struggles hard enough to make wrapping the scarf around them difficult, not impossible. When Jun cinches the scarf and ties it off where Nino's fingers can't reach, Nino squirms a little, tugging experimentally.

"It's about time," he huffs into the blankets, his voice muffled slightly.

Jun is not particularly big or strong, but he's plenty stronger than Nino; he gets his hands around Nino's waist and manhandles him onto his knees so that his ass is in the air and his face is pressed a little more firmly into the bed. He sits to Nino's left and watches Nino struggle with the effort of turning his face away from the blankets, finally managing to look back at Jun over his shoulder, but he doesn't say anything—just breathes and watches.

Jun absently lets his hands drift from Nino's waist, down to the gentle points of his hips, down to the pale curve of his ass. "You know," he says, running the pads of his fingertips against Nino's smooth skin just enough to make him shiver. "I suppose I should punish you for each time you spoke. How many was it?"

The question was rhetorical, but Nino shifts and answers breathlessly, "Eight."

 _He was keeping track, the fucker,_ Jun realizes. He can play this game too, though—in fact, he's better at it—and he tells Nino, "Then that was nine," before he rears back and smacks his open palm against the swell of Nino's ass.

The sound of it cracks through the room, followed quickly by Nino's pained shout. He tries to jerk away, but Jun grabs him by his bound wrists and uses them to anchor him in place, laying another sharp slap in the same spot, where a bright red handprint is quickly forming.

"F—fuck," Nino hisses.

"That's another on your total," Jun says, and Nino huffs out a breath of something like nervous laughter, but he's smart enough not to say anything. Jun rubs the red, warm skin and says, "You should be thankful I'm not making _you_ keep track."

Nino whimpers his agreement, and then Jun slaps him again, on the other side this time. Nino holds back a scream but just barely, the sound catching in his throat and coming out as a harsh gasp. His hands are clenched into tight fists under the fringe of the scarf, but he slowly uncurls his fingers, flexes them, arches his spine a little, and when he looks back at Jun, there's a spark of playful defiance in his eyes.

"Is that all you've got, Jun-kun?" he pants. "I thought you'd be stronger."

Jun only smiles in response. "That's another on your total," he says, and then he smacks Nino again, twice in a row, both of them low on his thighs. Nino must not have been expecting it there because he shouts again, his body twisting out of instinct away from the blows. Jun asks, "Is this what you want?"

Nino closes his eyes and breathes out, "Are you that dull that you don't know the answer?"

"That's another on your total," Jun repeats. He tightens his grip on the scarf to hold Nino still and then smacks him again, saying as he does, "I want you to say it."

Nino howls and jumps but doesn't respond.

Jun hits him again. "Is this it? You want me to spank you like a child?"

Again. "To punish you?"

Again. "Is _this_ what you want?"

And Nino buries his face in the blankets and screams, " _Yes_."

Jun smiles, petting Nino's side. "Good boy," he says. Then he delivers the last three blows, all in quick succession, and by the time he's done Nino's whole body is trembling and his voice has dropped into one undulating moan. Jun reaches between Nino's legs to curl his fingers around Nino's cock, still as hard and eager as before the spanking, and Nino gives out a long, high-pitched whimper, his toes curling. This is what Jun had wanted to see earlier: Nino overwhelmed and coming undone, lost in his own desire.

Jun rubs his hands along the cool skin of Nino's arms. "Do you want to come?" he asks.

A shiver wracks its way down Nino's body, like just the word by itself could send him over the edge. "Yes," he gasps, "yes, yes, Jun, come on—"

Jun pinches Nino's side, ignoring the stuttered gasp it elicits. "I'll let you," he promises, taking Nino by his shoulders and hauling him up into a sitting position to pull him closer. "After you get me off first." Surprisingly, Nino doesn't complain, just thrusts his wrists back at Jun, waiting to be untied, until Jun pulls him close and says, "No."

Nino freezes.

Jun smiles into the skin of his neck and bites, just a little. "Do it like this," he says, "or not at all."

Nino wails his disapproval. "Like this, are you crazy? I can't—"

Jun reaches around and pinches his belly. "Try."

Nino breathes shakily, his whole body tense with frustration. But he tries. It's easy for Jun to make people do what he wants when he's the only thing keeping them from an orgasm.

Nino manages to work his trembling hands into Jun's pants, already open from before, and pull Jun's cock out of his briefs, manages to summon just enough dexterity to follow the order given to him. It's clumsy and awkward, but Jun is already charged up from spanking Nino, and it's easy to focus on all the things that make it good: the strain in Nino's shoulders, the sounds of frustration that filter out of him, the way he jumps when Jun moves to wrap his arms around him. He layers wet, messy kisses all along Nino's shoulders, his neck, his throat, he presses his hands close to Nino's skin, rewarding him with touch, feeling out all his sharp points, palming the bony corners of his shoulders, the bumps of his collarbones. His right hand tips Nino's head back, exposing more of his throat, and he bites the skin there, gentle enough not to bruise but hard enough to make Nino feel it. They're both so close—

His left hand skirts over Nino's ribs, and Nino's breath hitches before he snaps, "That tickles, asshole!"

Rolling his eyes and thinking that he'd have to gag Nino to ever get him to shut up entirely, Jun sinks his teeth a little deeper and folds his hand tightly over Nino's mouth. Nino squeaks and tries to jerk away in a moment of genuine distress, and that's when Jun comes, on Nino's hands and his own scarf, sinking his teeth into Nino's shoulder and listening to Nino keening beneath his palm.

He gives himself a moment to recover, during which Nino complains loudly about how long he's taking, before he pushes Nino down onto the blankets and kneels between his splayed knees. Nino's body is like a guitar string drawn tight and plucked, taut and shivering all over. It doesn't take long for him to arch and cry out and come in Jun's mouth.

After, Jun unties Nino's wrists and rubs his arms, and he goes to fetch a glass of water and a moist washcloth. The whole time he cleans Nino's hands, Nino lies there with his eyes closed, humming his appreciation. He gives Nino the glass of water to sip from, and when he returns from dropping the washcloth in the sink, throwing the scarf into the hamper, and changing out of his clothes, Nino has pulled the blankets over himself and gotten comfortable in the middle of the bed.

Nino pokes his arm when he slips under the blankets. "You never lifted the no-talking rule."

Jun flings an arm over his eyes. "Consider it lifted."

"You know, I can't take you seriously as a disciplinarian if you don't follow through on your threats."

Without looking, Jun reaches over and pinches Nino's arm. "Done."

Nino shouts and slaps his hand away, and Jun can hear the pout in his voice when he says, "You didn't have to do it so hard."

"I just spanked you a dozen times, and you're complaining about a little _pinch_?"

Nino scoffs and fusses with Jun's hair just because he can. Then he settles back under the covers and asks, "What would you have done if I couldn't get you off?"

Jun replies, "I would have tied you to the bed and left you like that."

He can't see Nino's expression, but he can picture it, caught halfway between concern and disbelief. "You really are a sadistic bastard," Nino mutters.

Nino doesn't talk after that, thank goodness, just wraps himself around Jun and lets his breathing settle. Jun can deal with that. His palm stings, and he knows Nino is going to hog the blankets at some point in the night, but he loves Nino, even at his brattiest. And sometimes, when he's this sleepy and this content, he thinks that being with Nino is worth even having his blankets stolen. Besides—Nino's ass probably stings a lot worse than Jun's hand.

The thought makes him smile as he drifts further into sleep. Maybe Nino's right; he really _is_ a sadistic bastard sometimes.


End file.
